CEREMONIES AT TOMB OF WASHINGTON

Services at the Tomb of George Washington, Mount Vernon, September 17, 1937. Mr. Bloom, Bishop Freeman, and
General Waller.

Dedication of the Shrine of the Constitution, February 28, 1924; Dr. Herbert Putnam (Librarian of the Library of Congress),
President and Mrs. Calvin Coolidge, Representative Martin B. Madden, and others.

SHRINE EXERCISES

ADDRESS OF HONORABLE SOL BLOOM

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DIRECTOR GENERAL, UNITED STATES CONSTITUTION SESQUICENTENNIAL COMMISSION, AT THE SHRINE OF THE CONSTITUTION IN THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, CITY OF WASHINGTON, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 1937, at 3:45 P. M., BROADCAST AT THE HOUR THAT THE SIGNING OF THE CONSTITUTION

WAS COMPLETED

ONE HUNDRED fifty years ago today, at this hour, the members of the Philadelphia Convention signed the Constitution of the United States. The document, engrossed upon four large sheets of parchment, lay upon the table before George Washington, president of the convention and deputy from Virginia.

I am now standing in the Library of Congress in Washington, and before me lies the original Constitution of the United States-the same document that felt the touch of George Washington's hand 150 years ago at this very hour.

Here is his signature-a bold, clear hand, with the ink as fresh as if he had signed it yesterday-"Go Washington, President and Deputy from Virginia."

As the deputies came forward to sign the Constitution they were grouped according to their states. They signed in geographical order, with New Hampshire first and Georgia last.

As we look upon this yellow parchment, with its familiar opening line, "We the People of the United States," we can imagine the scene of 150 years ago, in Independence Hall in Philadelphia. The deputies had worked incessantly since May 25, all through a hot summer. The convention was in session eighty-eight days, but even when not in session the deputies were constantly meeting, conferring, discussing points of difference, reconciling disputes, hammering out on the anvil of debate the majestic form of the United States government.

Now, on the 17th day of September, they were gathered to sign and seal the finished work. As I glance down at these names their figures seem to stand before me. I see Benjamin Franklin, somewhat bowed with age, his keen eyes twinkling behind enormous spectacles. He is chatting with a younger man of fresh complexion and handsome features-Alexander Hamilton of New York. There, near by, is a rather tall figure, and I notice that he walks with halting gait as he advances to sign the Constitution. I see now the reason he has lost one leg, and walks upon a wooden stump. It is Gouverneur Morris of Pennsylvania. It was he who collected the various resolutions passed by the convention, and arranged them in the symmetrical form we know as the Constitution of the United States. To him, more than to any other, we are indebted for the solemn language of the Preamble.

READING THE PREAMBLE TO THE CONSTITUTION

Hon. Sol Bloom, reading the Preamble to the Constitution at the exercises held at the Shrine of the Constitution, Library of Congress, Washington, D. C., September 17, 1937.

A small, shy gentleman in black advances. He and General Washington exchange nods of friendly courtesy, and I see this gentleman sign his name "James Madison, Jr." Madison, the most industrious and resourceful deputy of all, the genius of statecraft and persuasiveness who wove into one fabric so many conflicting opinions.

So they come forward-informally, chatting, smiling, with the air of men who are relieved of a tremendous load of labor and responsibility. They sign the parchment in turn, and stand in scattered groups, waiting for General Washington to announce adjournment sine die. In due time Washington brings the gavel down and dissolves the convention. With a wave of the hand he gives the Constitution into the keeping of the secretary, Col. William Jackson, and steps down to join his fellow deputies as they leave the hall.

Outside, an excited throng greets the members as they depart. The news flies from mouth to mouth, and from city to city. The Union is saved! The Government of the United States is born!

George Washington heaves a sigh of relief and deep satisfaction. His life work is crowned with triumph. The Union will not perish if the people will only stamp with their approval the Constitution that has been formed. He pauses, raises his hand in salute to the people's greetings, and turns to grasp in friendship the hand of a portly and dignified fellow deputy who accompanies him to his carriage.

It is Robert Morris-Robert Morris, the Rock of the Revolution, the patriot who paid out of his own pocket part of the expenses of Washington's army from Dobbs Ferry to Yorktown, where Cornwallis laid down his arms. Poor Robert Morris! He had signed the Declaration of Independence, the Articles of Confederation, and the Constitution. He had carried the burden of financing the Revolution. With amazing genius he had found means to support Washington in spite of the poverty of the country-and now he fervently clasps the hand of his old friend as they leave Independence Hall.

Robert Morris had gained immense wealth. He owned a large part of the western half of New York State and millions of acres in Georgia, South Carolina, Virginia, and Pennsylvania. But land development was slow; failures in London and Dublin disrupted his credit; a partner proved dishonest; and by 1798 Robert Morris, a bankrupt, was thrown into debtor's prison. As he lay there languishing he heard the news of the death of his old friend, George Washington. Poor Robert Morris!

These thoughts come to us as we gaze at the signatures of Washington and his associates, inscribed on this parchment before us.